Wanting
by Daalny
Summary: Season 2 A/U. The things we thought we wanted.
1. Prologue

Decorations were going up at the Abbey, strands of garland with beautiful blooms of red. She was tired yet happy, her son was going to marry. Every mother's wish is to see their child marry and start a family. It was happening with Matthew and Isobel was delighted. She had nearly lost him in the War and now he was walking again about to take a wife. Her head pounded and she quietly asked Carson if she could have some tea. There were rehearsals and guests to prepare for.

Lavinia came to her side and she felt better, these past few days had been a flurry of activity. Generally Isobel thrived on activity but this was different. Instead of bustling about a hospital it was in drawing rooms. There was subtle infighting over the wedding, she could feel the tension! Cora had been cold, no doubt since Matthew could be seen as stealing Mary's thunder with Sir Richard Carlisle.

The tea helped lift Isobel's spirits and she went to the next task with dealing with the wedding. Her headache came back full force when Tom and Sybil announced their intentions! This wedding couldn't come soon enough!

Isobel's thoughts on the wedding were soon overshadowed by illness. First Carson, Lady Cora and Lavinia. The knowledge that he was coming gave her strength. She went with Lady Edith to await his arrival. She too felt unwell yet she didn't think it was flu. The days of eating on the run and not sleeping in preparation for the wedding was her main suspicion. It wasn't until she collapsed a day later and was carried off that she knew she had been very wrong.

For two days she had vague memories, someone held her hand. A cold towel caressed her brow and her throat and nose burned from vomiting.

"mother?" A voice asked.

She just wanted to keep her eyes closed yet the voice was incessant, "Mother?"

She groaned just to get the voice to be quiet. With her acknowledgement she heard shuffling and a deeper voice, "Can you hear me?"

The voice was smooth and not her son's she cracked open an eye and saw the color blue. The blue belonged to the doctor. With her eyes open the men withdrew slightly, she recognized the squeezing on her arm as a blood pressure cuff and remained still.

She heard snippets of the conversation, "Fever gone...weight loss...dehydration."

The blue of her son's eyes came into her field of vision. Both men in room had eyes the color of the sea however her son's were augmented with dark circles and the whites were bloodshot.

"What's happened?" She murmured.

The two men exchanged a look and she knew that something dire had transpired. "Who?" She demanded.

Matthew sat next to her, "Mother, Lavinia died."

She couldn't talk, she couldn't cry she couldn't even seem to breathe! She had just been preparing for a wedding, she had just dined with the young woman! Her son wasn't going to marry there was to be no happy ending.

"I'm tired." Was all she could manage and she closed her eyes.

She heard the doctor's clipped, "matthew" and footsteps leaving. It took all her strength to roll over onto her side. Her breathing hitched but she found she couldn't cry any tears.

It took days for her to regain her strength, Matthew never seemed to leave her always ready with a sandwich. Doctor Clarkson came to check on her progress and relieve Matthew so he could eat.

Isobel was still in daze and it wasn't from the flu, or from the death of Lavinia it was from what she had felt. Something that she thought she had buried.

After ten days he found her, "What is it? You've been avoiding me, what have I done?"

"Nothing." she answered truthfully.

He shook his head since there was something obviously wrong and he was clueless as how to help.

"I remember." She said softly.

"What? What do you remember?" He asked desperate to know what he could do, or if there was something he could do to fix their friendship.

"I remember I was in the hall when I realized that I wasn't just fatigued. When I fell to the carpet I knew it was Spanish Flu. Then I remember you picked me up and carried me away and I thought how lovely it was to be in your arms and I felt comforted that it would be where I would die."

She turned to him and found that he was still, frozen in place listening to her words. "I don't want to love you." She finished.

Richard found his own voice, "Do you hate me?"

Her eyes burned, "No, I don't hate you. I made a promise not to love anyone ever again and I don't want break my promise."

She turned away from him and he knew she shouldn't be receptive to any advances. He took a deep breath, "When you're ready, come and talk to me."


	2. Chapter 1

Isobel heard him leave and sighed through her nose, she doubted that she would ever be ready to speak to him. It wasn't that she had wanted to die far from it. Yet when she had collapsed onto the carpet she had believed the Lavinia would rally. That she had youth on her side and that she and Matthew would wed. Most of the goals she had mentally set for herself had been completed and she was at peace with her impending death. She had survived the Spanish Flu, but perhaps it would have been easier if she had been taken.

Her son was stricken with grief, his fiancee gone! He must now pick up the pieces of his life once again. From lawyer to heir, to soldier to invalid and now back to able bodied but wearing a black armband! Thoughts of Matthew kept her from thinking of herself. She had just revealed that she had feelings for Doctor Richard Clarkson, something that she had thought she would keep until the grave.

She too would now have to pick up the pieces of her life. She had done this many times and starting over at her age frightened her since she had little to start over with.

Richard Clarkson made his way back to the Hospital. Isobel Crawley was in denial of her feelings for him and that pained him. His feelings for her had morphed from care and respect to love over the years he was worried about what denial would do to her. If she didn't love him that was fine and well within her right. Yet, if she did love him or someone else and was repressing that it could be damaging to her!

As much as he wanted to go to her to help her he couldn't. She would either avoid him altogether or shun whatever help he would offer. No, he must wait for her to come to him and it would test him sorely.

Matthew had made dinner, actually Mrs. Bird had made dinner, yet Matthew was prompting his Mother to eat which was brewing resentment.

A spoonful of mashed potato clunked loudly on Isobel's plate and she resisted the urge to sigh, "Thank you Matthew but I'm feeling full."

"Mother you have yet to touch your roast." the blonde announced he was hunched over the table his elbow's propping him up.

"I had two bites, my stomach still hasn't stretched." She snapped back.

Her son then leaned back heavily in his chair, his long fingers raking through his hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bullying you."

Isobel calmly put down her fork, "No, it is I who am sorry. This shouldn't have happened. Lavinia should be here. You should be on honeymoon by now."

Matthew stared out a window, "Well I doubt that, if you had died we would have been burying you and not have vacationed on the continent."

Isobel hadn't considered that, she had thought if she had died things would have continued. Her eyes felt heavy and she excused herself from the table. She knew that she would be tired for days to come. As she climbed into bed she vowed that she would make more of an effort to eat in the morning.

That night she dreamed of Reginald's funeral. It hadn't rained when they had buried him but dreams had a way of turning a traumatic event into something cliché. Her mourning did veil shielding her eyes from the looks of pity of the other mourners gathered. Matthew's hand gripping hers tightly and her whispered promise as Reginald's casket was placed in the ground.

_I will never love another man again!_

It had been easy to keep that promise, rearing a young lad into a man had her too busy to pursue romantic interests. Her wedding band was a reminder and also repelled suitors. Why was it that she felt stirrings for Richard Clarkson? Was it the familiarity for he too is a physician? She wanted to believe that but knew that is was false.

In the morning she asked for toast, heavy on the butter. She ate two rounds and could hear grin Matthew wore from across the room. He would be going back to work today at the Legal Firm in Ripon. Hopefully the aspects of the Law would take his mind off of Lavinia.

With Matthew gone the house was nearly empty save for herself and the tinkering of Mrs. Bird. Wanting a book she made her way to the small library. What should she read? A novel? Poetry? Her anger began to rise, she didn't want a silly book. What she wanted was for son to be happy. Perhaps through him she could be happy too? As she neared the closest shelf she reached blindly for a book, any book, while she gazed out of the window. A woman with a basket hanging off an arm was walking down the lane. Life was continuing on!

Her fingertips touched the spine of a book . "Why am I alive?" She whispered to no one.

Slowly her strength returned. However, her passion didn't. She went through the motions with her charity work but her heart wasn't in it. The other chairs of the charities happily took over her duties that she willingly relinquished. Downton was slowly becoming her world. The trips to the city were less and less frequent until they stopped altogether. Crawley House was a refuge from the world yet it was becoming claustrophobic. The soft blue of the wall which were once a pleasant comfort were now mocking copies of what a real sky looked like. It was time to go into the real world.

One afternoon as she walked through the village she saw him. His hat firmly placed atop his head, one of his gloved hands holding his doctor's bag. He was walking off ahead of her, unless she made her presence known he wouldn't see her and that was just fine. Just for a moment she let herself remember the feeling that she had in his arms. She had felt safe, serene and loved. She knew that it had been him that had combated her fever and had fought for her life. His touches hadn't been cool and clinical, they had lingered they had caressed. He had touched her in concern as a lover would have.

Her own voice from her dream seemed to echo in her head!

_I will never love another man again!_

She stopped moving and watched as the Doctor's form became smaller and smaller. What was it about him? She felt better just for seeing him. Of all the men in the world why did she have to fall in love with him?


	3. Chapter 2

Days slowly gave way to weeks and the black armband was put away. Lavinia Catherine Swire's grave no longer carried fresh flowers. On a whim, Isobel took the train into Manchester. Some of the shops had come and gone yet the streets were the same. She had lived here once, had a life here once. Walking the streets she hoped that some of the essence of her life that had been would infuse into her. However, the echo had long since faded. What was she supposed to do with her life?

Charity work no longer appealed to her, all the lost souls she had tended to and the many more needing help… Her soul was gone. She couldn't mend others until she found her own and it was not to be found in Manchester.

The train ride back seemed like defeat. Matthew was not to be found at Crawley House, he was probably at the Abbey. Christmas would be coming soon. A reason to celebrate she supposed, then after that it would be the New Year. Would she muster the resolve to make a resolution?

Doctor Richard Clarkson had been tending to his patients both inpatient and outpatient. One outpatient in particular caught his attention. From his visual inspection Isobel Crawley had lost close to a half a stone. Her clothes seem to hang from her frame. The Spanish Flu had taken its toll on the Village. Surprisingly it was the fit and healthy that had fared most badly. Generally influenza would take the young and elderly yet they seemed to survive. Charles Carson was lucky to escape his bout while the young such as Miss Swire had succumbed. This strain attacked mercilessly the young adults, he knew for he had signed the death certificates. Thinking of the Spanish Flu led him to think of Isobel.

Her words would replay in his head at odd times , "I don't want to love you."

Did that mean she already did?

He loved her, seeing her waste away solidified the decision to intervene.

The Abbey was hosting a shoot. It was chance for the whole village, young boys could earn some last minute money by being loaders or beaters. Clarkson had been invited not to shoot but to be on hand for injuries. Twisted ankles and occasionally friendly fire had caused injuries. Richard shuddered, a few years ago he had spent over an hour picking out dove shot from a shoulder.

He was dressed in old clothes, checked cap along with a pair of brown leather boots. He looked like one of the loaders...a common villager. He found it silly to wear a suit for being out in the woods not that it stopped the Lords. Instead of his leather medical bag he had unearthed his old Army satchel from the Boer War, loaded with bandages, suture materials and morphine. Isobel saw him and managed to smile, her face felt strange doing it as if her muscles had forgotten how to maintain the pose.

Lord Robert was passing out cigarettes to the men, when it came to Richard he shrugged before placing one behind his ear.

"not shooting Doctor?" Lady Rosamund asked as she came near to her brother.

All the men turned to look for they too had dismissed Richard from his appearance.

"No, my Lady. Haven't hunted since I took my oath." He murmured as he adjusted his satchel.

At this some of the men shrugged and turned away while others muttered to one another. Isobel found it endearing that his oath had trickled down. She hadn't wanted to come, Matthew had insisted.

Lady Rosamund was speaking, " Cora isn't coming out until luncheon."

Lord Hepworth had been hoping that Rosamund would be by him "Well, the second drive, then? You ladies will have to distribute your charms fairly as there are only three of you. Don't you agree Lady Mary?"

Isobel turned to Mary, her mouth opened to say something when the other Richard spoke, "Lady Mary will stand by me."

Isobel's indignation fired as did Mary's for she found her voice, "Now just—

Matthew opened his weapon, "And I thought you were going to stand with me for the first drive, isn't that what you said?"

Now all eyes were on Matthew, "Did I?" Mary murmured before grasping onto what Matthew was offering. "Yes, I think I did."

With Matthew now with Mary Isobel didn't know what to do. Standing in silence next to her son would be easier than sitting at the spot for the shooting luncheon. The men began peeling off to their respective spots. The boys would be begin beating the bushes soon.

Richard leaned against a tree and checked his watch, nearly ten minutes later the first shots were heard. Isobel jumped at the noise. "I don't know why people like this."

"sport" Richard answered.

Isobel saw how natural Richard looked in the woods, "Did you hunt when you were young?"

"Yes, my father took me hunting, it was for survival having access to meat. I can handle a weapon and I was also given a weapon in the Army" He chuckled briefly, "A dead doctor is no use to his patients."

Isobel chuckled as well.

Seeing her laugh had him feeling better, "After I became a doctor I had money to buy my own meat. As for sport...I prefer cricket."

The sound of the double-guns had Isobel moving towards Richard. "We should move" he informed.

Isobel went to comply and tripped over a tree root. Instantly he was by her side, his arm slipping around her thin waist to steady her. After she was righted he extended his hand for her to take which she did. Hand in hand he lead her to the next location for the second drive.

Isobel shivered.

"Are you cold?" He asked.

She nodded.

Taking the cigarette from behind his ear he offered it to her. Isobel scoffed, smoking wouldn't get her warm but it would take her mind off of being cold. She waved her hand in confusion she didn't know where or how to start. Grinning Richard took the cigarette from her and placed it between his lips. A rattle announced a box of matches and she watched as a match was struck and he brought the cigarette to life. He blew out a stream of smoke before passing it to her. She inhaled deeply, the tobacco making her a bit dizzy. Nonetheless, she wasn't cold anymore. They began walking again stopping to pass the cigarette between them. As his fingers touched hers as she passed him the cigarette she didn't ask herself why she fell in love with him she just accepted that she was in love with him.


	4. Chapter 3

As Richard confidently led her through the woods holding her hand she felt calm. This calm was replaced by fear when he stopped and listened. The sounds of firing were near and she could hear the barking of dogs. She then found herself pushed up against a tree while Richard pressed against her front. The fabric of his jacket was gripped tightly in her fists as she clung to him in fear. He was solid in front of her, his warmth was reassuring.

"It's all right" he soothed.

"What's going on?" She asked shakily.

"The dogs and beaters are nearing and from the sounds of it a shooter has hung back and we don't want to get caught up in it. Safer to let them all pass instead of trying to dodge them. They're moving quicker than I had expected. Must have driven off the birds rather fast, no doubt there are some angry Lords!" He told her and she leaned in closer to him. The feel of him against her was intoxicating. A branch cracked and a gun fired near her causing her to jump. Richard leaned in closer bracing one his arms above her head, shielding her from the wood. Dogs being led and some loose passed by them. There were murmurs of apology from some of the beaters as they passed the Doctor and Isobel. When the last of drive had passed Richard pushed back from the tree and held out his hand. Isobel took it and they went to the next area for the second drive.

Matthew wasn't hitting any birds and truth be told he didn't want to. His Webley had been his constant companion during the War and he had absolutely no clue as to how many German's he had killed in the War. For a second he could smell the loamy soil of France and he shook his head to clear it. No, he was here in England. Automatically his hands went to open his weapon and eject the spent cartridges.

"Why don't you have a loader? Barnard would've found you one." Mary asks.

"I'm not very good at it. This or double guns, and I don't want a witness." He had been certified with a rifle yet a better shot with a pistol.

Mary shrugged, "I'm a witness."

"Then please don't spread the word of my incompetence." Matthew said with a smile and the easiness they once had between them was back.

"I never know which is worse, the sorrow when you hit the bird, or the shame when you miss it. Thank you for intervening back there before I said something rude." With Mary's words the easiness was shattered.

"He does rather beg to be teased." Matthew said in jest trying to reclaim the moment.

Mary inhaled through her nose before delivering, "The awful truth is, he's starting to get on my nerves. Still, you're not the person to burden with that."

Matthew had to ask, "You're still going to marry him, though?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?" She said but her words seemed hollow.

"Huh. I think I might have got that one." He said truthfully, anymore on the subject was not to be had for the horn blew.

"You must promise faithfully to lie when they ask you how I did." He said with a smile.

Mary could do that, she was good at keeping a secret and telling a lie. However, seeing Matthew in the wood she wanted desperately to tell him the truth.

Isobel and Richard made it to the second staging area for the next drive. With that Rosamund went to Lord Hepworth and Mary went to Sir Richard Carlisle. Isobel was called away by Lord Robert and Clarkson watched her go. The second drive was uneventful, no injuries to be reported. When the group reached the place of the luncheon Isobel saw that Richard had disappeared into the background. Why wasn't he staying? She then remembered that it was not his station to do so. Before he left he pulled on the brim of his cap in acknowledgement to her.

Matthew brought her a plate that he had made up and set it before her. Not wanting a lecture began eating, with her mouth full she wouldn't have to talk to anyone.

In the days that followed she found that she would rather be in the woods than in the snakepit that was a courtroom! Watching the testimony of Mr. Bates's colleagues made Isobel's stomach churn. More nauseating was the stricken look on Anna's face. The maid's anguish over her Mrs. Hughes's testimony

"I can't believe Mrs Hughes would say those things. Miss O'Brien, maybe, but not Mrs Hughes." Anna said in disbelief and all around her agreed. O'Brien, with her coarse attitude and sharp looks made it hard for people to warm to her. However, the soft Scottish lilt of Elsie Hughes repeating what she had overheard were the nails in the gallows!

"It's difficult to lie on oath. Few of us can manage it." Isobel delivered her thoughts turning back to Richard and his oaths. How she wanted to be in his arms at this moment, to feel safe amongst this wretched mess.

Isobel then found herself consoling Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper was wringign her hands, "I- don't know what to say, ma'am. They twist your words."

"You had to answer their questions." Isobel said trying to ease her discomfort.

"Wish to God I never listened." Elsie nearly wailed.

Isobel didn't know what to say luckily she was helped by Miss O'Brien, "I suppose Anna is very bitter. I wonder if you would tell her—

"I know that you're both praying for her, as I am." Isobel filled in.

Footsteps behind her had Isobel turning it was George Murray, "Mrs Crawley, the jury's returned."

"Ah." Was all Isobel could say.

The verdict came back guilty and Isobel was stunned. She turned to look at matthew, he didn't seem surprised. She put her trust into him as she helped Anna out of the courtroom. They left and found a pub.

Isobel deposited Anna into a chair before telling the barmaid, "Thank you, we don't need anything."

As if on instinct Anna rose to fetch something. Lady Mary told her softly, "Do sit down, Anna."

Isobel reached for Anna's hand, "You mustn't think that this is the end."

Murray nodded, "For the judge to pronounce the death sentence is only a matter of routine."

"Routine?" Anna echoed.

Matthew took over, "He means the judge had no choice. If a man is found of murder, he must be sentenced to death, but there are many reasons for it to be commuted. Many reasons."

They talked around the table, food was eventually ordered and all seemed to pick at it. Lord Robert stabbed an item with his fork, "I still can't believe it."

Isobel thought back to the disaster that was his testimony, "Well, I'm afraid you must."

Matthew mentioned the home secretary causing Robert to bristle, "He's a Liberal, isn't he? Pity."

Isobel was becoming frustrated, "He's a decent man."

Premeditation and other various bits of the case were discussed. Anna was overwhelmed and Lady Mary found accommodations at an inn. Mary and Isobel helped Anna out of her clothes and into the bed. She cried to them, "I love him! I'll die if he is hanged!"

Richard had been reading when he heard a knock at his door. He put down his tumbler of whisky and went to open his door. When the door was swung aside he saw Isobel Crawley. He didn't need to check the clock on the mantle to know it was late enough to be early morning!

He moved closer to her and her arms went around him and he could feel her shaking. Holding her close they stood in the doorway. Her voice was small but to him it was loud as she whispered, "I love you."


	5. Chapter 4

Isobel and Mary were trying to console Anna. Even they knew their words were hollow. What could they say? If your husband isn't hanged by the neck until dead you can take comfort in the fact that he will live only to rot in prison? When Anna had wailed that she would die if John Bates was hanged Isobel knew she was telling the truth. Mary got Anna settled while Isobel had left the room. Lord Grantham and Matthew were in the hall deciding on whether to get a room themselves or to push on.

When Lord Robert had made the decision to return to Downton Isobel had asked to go with him. The ride back was quiet yet it gave Isobel time to think. Isobel had to be filled in on some events, she had been stricken with the Spanish Flu when Anna and John had wed. Mary had told Isobel what she thought would be relevant, leaving out the details of the former Mrs. Bates's threat to expose her.

Isobel was struck by Anna's devotion, even in the face of a horrible situation she clung to love. Isobel had been like that once, she had even liked herself when she led with her heart. Over the years and with age and experiences her head had begun to rule more firmly.

Matthew had loved Mary and had been rejected, he had loved Lavinia and had been abandoned. She didn't want those things for her son, no mother would, and she didn't want them for herself.

Willing herself not to love Richard was a mistake, a huge one which she needed to correct. When Crawley House came into view she asked to be let out. Robert was tired and didn't make a fuss. Once the car was out of view she turned away from Crawley House and began making her way through the village. His cottage seemed dark but she knew he would be there. Her knuckles rapped against the door and she held her breath as she heard footsteps nearing. As the door swung open and she saw him she felt a tremor go through her frame. She launched herself at him and his own arms came around her. The feel of his arms was something that she was beginning to crave! The memory of him carrying her through the Abbey, of him protecting her against the wayward hunter and now. That calm she felt, she could die without fear in these arms. It was time he knew what she really wanted.

"I love you." Was all she could manage and she felt his arms tighten around her as she uttered it.

Richard thought he was dreaming yet here Isobel was in arms, more than that she had come to him, told him that she loved him. He pulled back so he could look at her. Those brown eyes held a weariness and he knew that she must be desperately tired. It was still a mystery though as to how she came to be here at this hour. After the shoot he hadn't had a chance to see her. He had heard the scuttlebutt in the village involving Bates, there was also gossip about Lady Mary. As a rule stayed away from gossip. Feeling he was free to do so he swept his fore and middle finger across her brow moving aside the hair that had fallen out of place. Her eyes while tired were bright.

"So brave you are my Isobel. What courage you have to know what you want! So strong to come here to me." He finished his declaration with a simple kiss which she returned. Wanting her out of the cold he pulled her into the cottage and she came willingly. His hand slid to her hip to guide her yet he could feel that she was still thin.

"Have you eaten?" He asked knowing the answer.

Isobel thought back to the pub how everyone had been too stunned from the sentence of death to eat anything. She wasn't going to lie to him so she shook her head in the negative. He moved the small kitchen as he gathered supplies and began to cook, the potatoes sang as they hit the pan while she told him of the ongoings with the trial. His hands never stilled, no movement of his was interrupted by her speaking. He was quiet during this time, letting her talk, allowing all her thoughts to leave her mind.

A drawer was opened and utensils retrieved. Richard indicated with his head of where Isobel was to sit and she did and he placed the offering before her. Isobel saw the mixture of potato, onion, egg and cheese and inhaled the aroma. At first she took dainty bites as a lady would be expected to do. Nonetheless after two bites the portion load on the fork increased and her posture became hunched over the plate so she could eat quicker. Richard merely nodded deeply in satisfaction. His woman needed to eat and he would cook up a storm every hour if she wished. With the heavy load of carbohydrates and the full impact of the day taking it's toll her eyelids closed.

"Come here" he whispered as he helped her up. They moved to his bedroom where he sat her on his bed and began removing her jacket. She was like a sleepy child, heavy limbs and mumbled responses. Richard removed what he thought would make her comfortable and to preserve some modesty. She was soon bundled in his bed and he went to leave.

"Stay" she murmured.

"All right." Came his soft reply.

Richard went to his dresser and removed pocket watch. Isobel could hear the soft clink as it was laid on the flat wooden surface. She watched as he threw off his waistcoat, obviously a practiced move since it landed squarely on a chair. Next he pulled his shirt free from his trousers. At this time of night he wasn't bothered with his nightclothes. He simply got on top of the covers. Isobel was too tired to protest his chivalry. Her eyes closed safe in the knowledge that he was near.


	6. Chapter 5

He couldn't sleep not with her so near. After an hour he got up and got ready for his day. He left a note beside her with one simple word on it-Eat.

He didn't need to write a poetic verse of how he loved her, she already knew that. What she did need to know was the while he couldn't be there for her at that moment he was thinking of her well being. As Richard left his bedroom he looked back at the woman sleeping in his bed.

In the morning Isobel found his note and went to comply. She had toast at Crawley House and then went to the Abbey she indulged in some biscuits with her tea. Isobel helped Lord Robert craft a letter to the home secretary. She personally walked it to the post office for it to be put through. The hospital was near and she could see in the courtyard a figure wearing white. Even from this distance she knew it was him. She could see him and knew he was not aware of her. Moving closer to the cobblestone wall she watched him. She left before he could see her.

He found her waiting for him in the cottage. She was seated at his table a plate with crumbs and remnants of food had been pushed aside. Currently she was reading, he wondered what she had found.

She heard him approach and closed her book, she stood to intercept him. There were so many things that she wanted to say but found she couldn't. Her mouth opened but her vocal cords seemed to have been paralyzed. He could see her willingness and trusted that she wanted his advances. His hand rose to rest at the back of her neck before pulling her to him. Their lips met chastely before moving against each others to part them. Richard emboldened by her moans deepened the kiss. They started moving together, he expertly navigaed them around furniture and other items. The bedroom soone enclosed them.

As his tongue met hers and she felt herself grow warm Isobel cursed herself for being a fool. You couldn't deny love, if you did you would only be a miserable-lonely-fool. Together they removed one another's clothes which they kicked away. She wanted to cry out at her stupidity. His teeth grazed over her neck, it felt incredible. She gasped at the sensation.

He pulled back, "Something wrong?" he panted, "Have I hurt you?"

"Maybe you should." She muttered in truth

Richard's eyes widened, his head suddenly clear. He eyes bore into her before he whispered, "Isobel."

Richard understood, perhaps more than anyone about survivors guilt...or guilt in general. He saw it with patients, those that had passed without settling things amongst family. Those that had survived an illness only for another to not. She was happy yet didn't feel as though she deserved to be.

Punishment.

Instead of guiding her to the bed he moved near to the door. "put your hands on the wall" He instructed.

She faced the wall and placed her palms flat on the wall's surface. He moved behind her and glided his hands down her flanks. "You feel as though you don't deserve to be happy don't you?"

She could only nod.

His hands blazed another circuit, "Are you happy at this moment?"

Again she could only nod.

"Good, turn but keep your hands on the wall." He instructed and she turned to comply. His right forearm was braced above her head as he pressed close to her his left hand touching her front starting with her neck to move down her chest.

"I thought about this, in the wood. They way you held onto my jacket made me think of what you would be like in bed." He uttered as his nose nuzzled against her shoulder.

The announcement that he had thought about her, had thought about this had her knees buckling. He pushed against her more intently, keeping her in place, not letting her fall.

She wanted to hold onto him but she dare not take her hands off of the wall, she would do everything he told her.

Kisses were being pressed hotly on her neck and chest and she shifted her head to give him better access. She kept her hands against the wall but angled her body to touch his. Richard angled his own body away from hers so she couldn't gain any friction. If she wanted punishment she was going to have some. Remembering her reaction earlier he grazed her neck again with his teeth.

"Oh, Jesus" She swore.

Richard felt high. He had always envisioned their first time to be in bed, trading lazy kisses before coming together gently. Here she was against his bedroom wall trying desperately to obey his order and trying to fulfil what her body was craving. His hands anchored on her hips, her hip bones were still a bit prominent. He made a mental note to make sure the pantry was filled.

Richard's ears detected a new sound, her fingers were digging into the wall and her nails were making ticking sounds. Still her hands were on the wall, such devotion should be rewarded. Pressing his body up against her she moaned. "Touch me" he rasped.

Her hands flew from the wall to wrap around him. Now that she could touch him her hands skimmed over his shoulder and down along his back. Never before had she craved the feel of skin, one of Richard's thighs moved between both of hers and she pressed against it. Her lower body swaying against him.

He was mesmerized by the sight of her, lost in the haze.

"Let me" He whispered gently before moving a hand between them. At first his touch seemed to intensify the ache she felt. His fingers moved confidently soon the ache was banished and she cried out. His eyes watched hers as she came and he found it humbling. He considered moving them to the bed but he didn't. The few feet it would take were akin to miles and he couldn't wait any longer. His thigh shifted, making more room. A hand anchored behind her knee and pulled it up against him. With a cant of his hips and push of his body he was with her.

His arm that was braced above her head came down to rest behind it which was good since on the next move of his hips her head came back to hit his arm. No doubt her head would have bashed against the wall if he hadn't have braced it. His legs burned from the effort yet he dare not stop. Her breaths came out in small huffs the perfect punctuation to each of his thrusts. This is what she deserved! Not punishment but love, to feel something good. The heel of her foot began moving up down the small of his back and he threw his own head back at the sensation. It was as if she was touching him everywhere. A hand was in his hair, another on his shoulder, a leg around his waist and all the while she touched him with her warm center.

The Spanish Flu hadn't taken her life yet it had taken her beliefs in life. She had felt as if her soul had gone. Richard had found it and more than that he was touching it. She pulled him closer "I love you" she told him and he jammed his mouth over hers and moments later she felt her soul touch his.

They didn't remember much of how they made it to the bed only that they did. Sleep came to them both. In the morning Richard cooked a breakfast with Isobel looking on. While they smiled to each other over their food they both knew that today would be reminder of all that had been lost.

Reggie Swire's ashes were going to be buried with his daughter today. Isobel and Matthew were going to place the urn. Isobel was pleasantly surprised when Lady Mary came, they recited the Lord's Prayer together around the grave.

As Lady Mary left Isobel felt it necessary to speak with Matthew.

"She's still in love with you, you know." Isobel told her son matter of factly.

"I don't think so." Matthew declared

Isobel resisted the urge to chuckle at her son. Well, I'm sorry, but it's plain as the nose on your face.

Matthew's eyes narrowed at his Mother, something had changed, "I thought you didn't like her for throwing me over."

Isobel couldn't control her grin, "That's a different conversation."

Matthew was confused but he agreed that conversation was for another time, "Mother, it has to be like this. I'm afraid I can't explain why. At least, I'm not going to."

She noted how her son's eyes turned back to the gravesite, "Something to do with Lavinia?"

Isobel saw that her son's shoulders had gone stiff, "Maybe."

Isobel knew that Richard was in the church courtyard waiting for her. How he had waited until she was ready. How he had held with care during her fever, how he had protected her in the woods and how he had held her in reverence and passion up against the wall and then in their bed. Lavinia had been a quiet soul, she had reminded her of pixie's with her svelte figure and chiseled features. "Well, you see, I think you're wrong. Lavinia wouldn't have wanted this. She was a sweet girl, a kind girl. She wouldn't have wanted you to be unhappy."

Matthew's shoulders had tightened even more, "You don't understand. I deserve to be unhappy. So does Mary."

Isobel was sorrowful that her son hat taken after her in this regard. "Nobody your age deserves that. And if you are, and you can do something about it and don't, well, the War has taught you nothing."

Her words had his shoulders sagging somewhat, "That's your opinion."

Isobel regarded her son, hoping that he would follow his heart as she finally did. However, a moral compass could only point you in the right direction it had no power to make you go there. "Yes, it is."


	7. Chapter 6

Matthew walked beside his Mother. He had been deluding himself ever since that kiss he and Mary had shared the night Lavinia had fallen ill. He loved Mary, she loved him but she was marrying Carlisle. What good would it do to offer what was left of his heart to a woman who was dead set on marrying another man? So lost in his own thoughts he didn't notice his Mother moving off of the path towards the courtyard. He glanced over to see the doctor approach his Mother but paid it no mind. He turned to leave and didn't see his mother fall into the doctor's arms.

Richard had been standing by the wood bench, the rains had already soaked into the wood. He assessed her as she walked towards him. She seemed stable, nonetheless she had just buried the ashes of the father of her should-have-been-daughter-in-law. Richard didn't attend the funeral of Lavinia Swire, he had attending to his patients. He had heard from the village that after the interment Mr. Bates had been arrested and taken from the Abbey.

Isobel was moving faster and he moved forward to intercept her. She fell into his arms and sobbed.

Both of their umbrellas gracefully fell to the wet grass as she clung to him. He held her tight let her know with his arms that she was safe, protected and loved. He didn't speak, he would wait for her to tell him if she knew what was bothering her.

"My son, is too much like me!" She finally delivered.

She pulled back and she could see the unanswered question in his eyes. She swallowed, "He thinks he deserves to be unhappy."

Richard pulled her close once again. This was one quality he was sure she hoped would skip a generation. He remembered how she had nodded when he had asked her the same question before taking her up against the wall.

_You feel as though you don't deserve to be happy don't you?_

The memory of their encounter had Richard's body responding, he inhaled deeply and regained control. Slowly her tears ebbed, he picked up their umbrellas and they walked out of the cemetery. They were shoulder to shoulder, Richard angling his umbrella so it wouldn't bump hers. His gloved hand found hers, he didn't care if it was inappropriate and it seemed neither did Isobel for she returned his grip fiercely.

During the night while a search party were scouring the woods for a wayward dog. Richard was searching Isobel's body. He had mapped her with his hands and mouth. Learning her topography, discovering all the hidden wonders she had. On her back a cluster of freckles in the shape of what Richard thought looked like the constellation Aries. He knew her tells now, how she would hold her breath right before she would shatter. How she liked to be kissed on her neck but not her chest. Most of all she liked to be talked to.

Isobel couldn't deny it, the first thing that had attracted her to Richard was his voice. That voice that could soothe patients worries and gently instruct was darkly seductive and smooth against her skin. The promises he would whisper he kept!

Secrets weren't just being shared in the Doctor's cottage. Mary could take it no longer and finally told Matthew of Mr. Pamuk.

"I wish you'd take my advice and fight for her. But I know you won't." Isobel said boldly, trying to telepathically implore her son to do what she wanted.

"I don't expect you to understand." He said almost bitterly. What wasn't known to Matthew was that she did indeed know. Her fight for Richard hadn't involved other suitors! Sometimes she wished it had for it would have spurred her on, she had to fight herself and oneself was always the worse adversary.

"I made a vow once, when your father was buried. I swore I'd never love another man. Then I did fall in love and tried desperately to keep the promise I had foreswore. In the end I chose to love. Reginald is dead. Dead, Matthew only I can let him haunt me. Doctor Clarkson...Richard, the man I love and who loves me back isn't dead-he's alive! Mary is alive and loves you. Don't you ever again invoke the name of that sweet dead girl again." She declared before she strode determinedly to the phone, she wanted Richard to pick her up. When her son got his head straight they could talk. She snatched up the handset and asked to be put through. Just hearing his voice on the contraption had her relaxing. Her son needed a swift kick up the arse!

Her stomach rumbled, she was hungry, glancing at a clock she had some time before Richard would be there. She went in search of something to eat.

Matthew was lingering, he didn't want to leave the Abbey yet he didn't want to bump into his Mother again. She had always pushed him but this push was different. She had vowed to stay out his personal life. He remembered the conversation they had when they first came to Crawley House. They had been arguing about Valets and butlers but really they had been arguing about something else entirely.

_I have to be myself, Mother. I'll be no use to anyone if I can't be myself. And before they, or you, get any ideas, I will choose my own wife._

He wanted Mary. He was walking and heard voices.

_I suppose you stopped it._

Matthew had no trouble recognizing Mary's voice for it haunted his dreams.

_With threats, bribes, calling in favours, yes I stopped it._

Rough voice-Carlisle

_Papa will be so thankful._

_You don't think it holds now, do you? You don't think I'll save you or him for one more day?_

_And you wonder why we wouldn't make each other happy!_ Mary's voice was sharp and he decided to intervene. "Mary, are you quite all right?"

Mary's face rose while Carlisle's fell, if they had been standing closer they would have made a perfect analogue of the two masks of drama.

"Oh, here he is, the man who can smile and smile and be a villain. Is she not to be trusted even to get rid of me without your help?" Sir Richard spat.

Matthew ignored him and leveled his voice at Mary, "I heard shouting."

Two more individuals entered through the back, it was Isobel and Doctor Clarkson.

"Lavinia knew it, you know. She knew you never loved her." Carlisle said with a wave.

"Don't you dare." Matthew snarled.

"Oh, she said it once. It was late and she was tired, you two were locked together in the corner of the room and she said, "If he could just admit the truth, then all four of us might have a chance."

Liar! Matthew hissed.

Sir Richard smiled wickedly, "I'm not a liar. No, I am many things, but not that. She regretted it, of course, but she said it."

Isobel saw the tension in her son, it was about to snap. He launched at the newspaper mogul shouting, "You bastard."

Doctor Clarkson saw the two men start to grapple and went to break it up. Isobel's hand grabbed his elbow, he looked at her. She wasn't stopping him for fear that he would be hurt, she was stopping for this was what her son needed. Richard did move only to shield her from the two men. A vase shattered and Mary shrieked. Lord Robert soon appeared and the men backed down. Cousin Violet approached as well to effectively dismiss Sir Richard.

Doctor Clarkson saw that Matthew's hair had been tousled in the fight and he had some scratches. He beckoned for the young man to follow him. Richard tended to his wounds. While antiseptic was being dabbed on some cuts caused by the broken vase Matthew addressed the older man.

"You're in love with my mother." It was a statement not a question.

Clarkson's voice was level as he confirmed, "Yes, I am in love with your mother."

Matthew scoffed but it was not at Richard, "She told me to fight."

"Good advice." Richard declared.

Matthew was taken aback, this man who wouldn't fire a gun at the shoot was condoning fighting?

"When your Mother was stricken with Spanish Flu I did everything I could to combat it. I didn't roll across the floor with another man, I spent days and night combating fever. I fought for her life because I can't live without her." Richard said softly and Matthew believed him. He also knew that he couldn't live without Mary. He had fought another man, now it was time to fight for her heart.


	8. Chapter 8

The cuts had been tended to and Matthew got up to leave. Mary had hidden herself away in her room. Matthew had shown great courage yet she felt unworthy of it. She had given away her most prized possession to a man out of boredom. The fact that Matthew had defended her honor made her smile yet it was tempered by the fact that he had also swung his fists for Lavinia. The dead would forever haunt them. For her it was Mr. Pamuk, for Matthew it was Lavinia.

Isobel wasn't going to let Reginald haunt her, not that he would. When she did think of him she let herself remember times good and bad. Nostalgia could be a dangerous sentiment. Not everything in her marriage was rosy and it would be foolish not to remember. She still worried about Matthew, while he had finally followed her advice and had fought there was still an unresolved element.

The next morning saw the departure of Sir Richard Carlilse. Matthew was hopeful that Mary would come to him, that they could start to be with one another yet she stayed away. The news of stay of execution lifted everyone's spirits and the servants ball was to be held. Isobel was going to go and Doctor Clarkson also had been invited to attend-for the servants.

Watching Carson and Mrs. Hughes dance with Lord Robert and Lady Cora had Isobel wanting to run. While she and Richard were lovers it seemed insulting to pair them up to dance somehow. Richard was dressed for the occassion and he drew near to her and extended his hand. They too joined the mass of dancing bodies.

Matthew saw Mary loittering and asked her to dance.

"Are you sure you want to dance with me?" She asked.

"I don't want to dance with O'Brien" came his soft reply and she emitted a sharp laugh before clamping her mouth shut.

As she came into his arms both of them remembered their last dance, where they each stole a kiss from each other.

"I noticed Sir Richard had gone this morning."

"Yes he returned to London."

Matthew couldn't help but smile at this fact.

Mary stuttered, "I'll be leaving too."

Matthew tensed, "When?"

"When I can square everything away with grandmama." She delivered.

"Are you sure it's what you want?"

She shrugged, "What I want is to avoid a scandal."

Mary ploughed on, "Sybil ran off and married a chauffeur, I've slept with a diplomat, and Papa's valet is a murderer."

Matthew rolled his eyes, "Sybil is making a life in Ireland with a journalist, what happened to you is gossip, and Bates has been stayed his from execution and we will overturn it."

Shaking her head Mary sighed, "I have to go."

Pulling her closer Matthew spoke, "There is always going to be a scandal or some sort, there are always secrets."

"you don't have any secrets" She fired back.

Matthew moved them closer to a corner, "Not anymore, you know everything well…" he trailed off.

Mary's head shot up and Matthew weighed his options and decided to tell her. "My mother and Doctor Clarkson are close, I believe they will marry."

Mary was confused, "Why are you telling me this?"

Matthew huffed a breath, this was more trying that he thought it would be. "It's the only secret I have and it could lead to scandal. What would they say of the mother of the future earl of Grantham marrying a common doctor?"

Indignation fired in Mary, "She can marry whoever she wants!"

Matthew had been waiting for this his face showing his eagerness, "Exactly!"

The quartet had stopped and Mary took her leave, she went outside into the snow. Was he truly asking what she thought? Or was it her desperate hope? Matthew had followed her, "Would you stay if I asked you to?"

Mary's heart hammered in her chest for it was more than she could dare to believe. She was going to follow her heart.

Isobel and Richard had left the Abbey, bundled warm they walked through the Village. Their breath's were visible as they walked along the path.

With the snow falling everything was quiet, only the soft crunch of their feet along the path made any noise.

"Would you come with me to Manchester?" She asked him.

Richard increased the pressure of his hand on hers in reassurance, "Of course, may I ask why though?"

"Reginald is buried there." Was all she said.

She didn't need to say anything further, her vow to him was one that never should have been made and she was going to dissolve it properly. Two weeks later Reginald Crawley's grave had fresh flowers on it. Isobel had come to terms with the fact that the vow she had forswore upon his death was a vow that no one should keep. Richard stood by her side as she lovingly swept off his gravestone, speaking to him. One of his hands she held as the other continued to brush over Reginald's tombstone. "Hello Reginald, this is Richard."


	9. Epilogue

A Crawley was going to be married today. Lady Mary would marry Matthew Crawley in a grand celebration. No expense was spared, Mary had asked for two bridal bouquets. The florist didn't bat an eye at the request she was used to brides wanting two incase the first wilted before pictures were taken. What wasn't known was that the other bouquet was laid in offering on Lavinia's grave. If circumstances had been different she would have married Matthew and become the heiress to the throne of Grantham.

Richard was beside Isobel in the front row of pews in the church. The news of their armour did stir some feelings in the family. This was quelled with the return of Sybil for the wedding. When Tom had been drugged the family had softened. Tom was a good man. Doctor Clarkson while not a Lord was a Doctor! Isobel and Richard wouldn't have cared what the family had said in regards to them. In fact they had wed in Manchester the day after visiting Reginald Crawley's grave.

As wedding march was played and all eyes turned to see Mary, Isobel kept her eyes on her son. Watching his face as he viewed his bride coming forth to meet him. The vicar directed them all to sit, as the ceremony began Isobel threaded her left hand through Richard's right. The question was asked if anyone had any objections to the marriage, there were no voices of dissent. No candles were blown out by ill winds from the dead. The marriage of Mary and Matthew seemed to have everyone's approval.


End file.
